We Got History
by Weareleavesonthewind
Summary: Zoe and Mal. They've been through it all. So how is it these two never got together? Well they were very close to it once, but somehow one pilot got in the way.


Hoban Washburne sat in his pilot's chair and looked over the controls of Serenity, his new ship – well, Mal's new ship, but in Wash's head it was his. After dusting and cleaning every inch of the dash, the board glistened like new. He knew every button, every light, and every lever. By just grazing his hand over them, they became acquainted. Sure, they were washed-up and outdated as Hell, but he didn't care. With his record, Wash could have ended up in a much cushier job that was little less illegal, but he didn't care. Something about Serenity just fit. Still, something was missing. He picked up his box, which was filled with various necessities: a photo from flight school, some news clippings, a bag of his favorite sweets, and other things he nabbed from back home before leaving on his job search.

"Whatcha doing there pilot?" he heard from behind him. It was the voice of the only female on the ship, the first mate Zoe.

Wash immediately stiffened up. He had been itching to get to talk to her. For the past two days he had been aboard Serenity both the captain and the mechanic had seen to it that he was welcomed (Mal, he assumed, because he wanted to make sure Wash didn't have a sudden change of heart, and Bester because, well, he was just an inviting kind of fellow). Zoe, on the other hand, gave Wash the coldest shoulder he had ever experienced. She spoke barely two words a day to him that didn't start with "Captain says…" and all other forms of communication was told with cold stares and blank expressions. Not once had she laughed at his jokes. Not once! At least he's gotten approving smirks from Mal. But still, something about her sparked his curiosity. Maybe it was the eyes behind the cold glances, the clichéd story of the war vet with a heart of gold, or maybe it was the legs (no, it was definitely the legs). Wash was completely enamored by her, but also completely terrified.

"Um…Uh," he stuttered, but quickly he snapped back. "Just thought I'd– uh – personalize my space here." He pulled out his favorite things from his box and shot a big stupid smile at her. "See?"

Zoe raised an unamused eyebrow. "Toys?"

"Stress relievers," Wash said defensively as he placed his dinosaurs delicately on the board. "You should try to find your own, seein' as you get shot at on a daily basis. All that stress could do a number on your skin. Might I suggest the mighty triceratops?" he grinned, finally losing the awkward twinge in his voice.

Zoe continued the blank stare. "Captain's been telling you stories I see."

"No, just the job description."

"I just want to know you know what the description entails."

"I fly the ship," Wash spun in his chair and gripped the wheel. "And you and Mal go out and bring home the bacon. It's a little less legal than I'm used to, but I can't turn down bacon."

Zoe crossed her arms and leaned on the board. She looked Wash up and down. "Well, you don't look like trouble." Wash was impressed. That was the nicest comment he had heard Zoe saw since he'd been here. "I mean, any member of the Alliance at least enough dignity to not wear that shirt." Wash shook his head. Of course. Zoe got up and started to head for the hallway, Mal was probably waiting to head out for their run. "We'll be back in an hour. Captain then wants us to take a straight shot to Persephone, finish our job there."

Busy checking out one of the blown out lights on a button, Wash nodded. "Sure thing. Have fun gettin' shot at. And if you ever want your own stress relief you can find me in my bunk." Zoe paused. She raised her eyebrow yet again. Wash was immediately mentally cursing himself. "Jiàn tā de guǐ," he muttered. He turned around and louder, he said. "I mean not my _bunk_ bunk, but um…I'm not suggesting that…Just um…I don't want you _there_…I mean I'm not totally against it! I mean if _you _wanted, but I'm not of course assuming that you wanted, but I'm not assuming that you didn't. NO! I mean that…I was just saying that… TOYS! If you wanted toys, dinosaur toys, I would be… happy to… lend you some." He grinned nervously as she still had her back to him.

"Sure, pilot." Zoe stepped out into the hallway and tried her best to contain her laughter.

"Call me Wash" he said, practically to himself. Once she was gone he immediately collapsed, smacking his palm on his forehead.

* * *

As Zoe stepped out onto the loading deck where Mal was waiting, she couldn't help the smirk that had crawled on her face. She stood next to him and grabbed a weapon. Mal was loading his. He stared at her. "Has the new pilot been warming up to you Zoe?" he said slyly.

Zoe quickly fell back into her normal frown. "I still don't trust him. He's definitely not Alliance though."

"I know. You two seem like you've been getting along."

"Yes, I've been trying out this new 'friendly' approach you've ordered of me, sir."

"Really, is that all that is, an order? Or is that giddy little school girl inside of you itching to get out?"

"I could never find myself getting with a man who wears a caterpillar on his upper lip."

"Really? I think it's cute. I'm calling it Harold."

Zoey walked over to press the button to open the doors. "Harold?"

"Yeah, Harry for short."


End file.
